


Fact

by Kirbyplier



Category: South Park
Genre: Cliche, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-24
Updated: 2015-04-24
Packaged: 2018-03-25 11:45:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3809176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kirbyplier/pseuds/Kirbyplier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, people that don't talk to you are the ones that really want to. And then after that ruin a perfectly good chair. CREEK</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fact

**Author's Note:**

> Have not stolen any ideas. Also, I'm always into cliche things. 
> 
> I'm writing two thee stories but I'm keeping it hidden until I finish it! It's long and luckily...
> 
> It's multiple chapters DUN DUUNN DUUUUUUNNNNN
> 
>  
> 
> SPOKEN IN TWEEK POV SECOND

I see you staring. Looking like you wish to talk to me, but have nothing to say.

You're staring at only me, but never speaking words to me. Far away you are, I always see you staring. Why do you keep staring at me? Am I interesting?

I know that everyone stares at me when I start to freak out about those little things. My outbursts may be entertaining, but they look away because they got bored. But you.

Whenever everyone looks away you just keep looking at me with those God forbidden eyes. I always want to ask you why, but I'm not that brave. No one seems to know the answer to why you keep staring but don't talk to me. Always with the same answer every time, whenever I ask. I stopped asking, wouldn't you know that? The amount of times you stare at me with no emotion showing on your face, should show you how much you know about me. Isn't that called stalking? This isn't some joke like, ‘ _no I'm just watching you from a distance as I get all your personal information_.’ Even a normal person would worry about that.

I don't stalk you all the time, only look at you every once in awhile. Girls flutter their eyes as they dream about you fucking them in the bed as they scream your name, they watch you all the time. But do you seem to care? No.

You're too busy stalking me.

Should I move to Neptune?

Should I make the first move and talk to you?

Why must you be confusing? I wish I could just have a power to read peoples' minds, I want to see what's in your mind.

Wondering if it's dull and gray, full of sadness and raining everywhere. Filled with a hint of Stripe and Red Racer in there someway. Maybe it's the complete opposite, full of sunshine and rainbows with unicorns running out. What if you were gay?

Imagining you liking guys is hard, but still reasonable. You wrapping arms around your little boyfriend as you graze their neck and take off their clothes just to put them in the washer with your laundry addiction. I'm not stalking, it's just that people told me that about you. How you live doing laundry. I even think you have my dad's metaphors, just with laundry related things.

_Using Tide will make your clothes as soft as the beautiful clouds on a sunny Sunday._

I quite like that. Your blank face as you explain to ignorants how important laundry is. It's like laundry is coffee, even though Ki—

“Hello.”

I yelp, turning around and seeing you there. You're speaking to me, your voice all dull like your appearance. “H-Hi,” I say softly, looking at the ground. I don't want to see your face, my face would grow more Crimson than I would prefer. 

I was sitting at my lunch table, filled with no one but me. Now I see you pulling out the chair next to me and sitting in it.

After all that cleaning, I have your butt germs on that perfectly clean chair.

Do you not know how much time I spent cleaning that chair?

“I want to sit with you,” you say, looking me straight in the eyes. I opened my mouth to respond, but you interrupted me. First time we met and you're already rude to me and my chair.

“You're fine with that,” you ask, but your voice didn't make it sound like a question. It's like you forced me to be fine with you sitting on that chair with your legs nearly touching mine.

I nodded.

You sucked in a breath, “wanna hang out?”

Should I agree or disagree? This is a free choice question, but what would happen? If I disagree, he'll kill me. If I agree, he'll find out I'm annoying and then kill me.

I blinked, not knowing what to say. After a few seconds, I nodded, quickly going through the pros and cons inside my head. Your lips curve a little, not looking like a smile, but being this close made it show that you were smiling.

I made you smile.

A smile.

It’s a freaking smile.

* * *

 

Here we are, me being 21 and you being 22. We're on the sidewalk walking as you poke my arm.

I looked at you with a confused face, wondering what has gotten in to you. Then you did something wonderful. Something that meant everything to me, even more than the first time we met. My eyes teared, not the reason that I was sad, but the joy couldn't control itself inside me.

“Craig!” I say happily.

That moment was perfect, even with a few troubled times of me crying uncontrollably. I hugged you, you hugged me. I don't even care how people will think about this.

I still remember when you first talked to me, when you were staring at me all the time. The time you sat on that perfectly perfect chair and ruined its perfectness with your butt germs.


End file.
